Diary of Marie Bashkirtseff
CZENUKFR

Friday, 8 July 1881

A heavy day in every respect. Vexations,
sulkings, everyone either avoids one another or quarrels... Maman is very worked up against Paul — in some degree even hateful toward him. It is that dear uncle Alexandre who has whispered poison in her ear. Toward evening all calms down — I had had enough...
A ravishing moonlight — we all stay under the balcony to talk. Micha has arrived. But during the day it had been very trying; we were all but biting each other.
For a good hour I paced back and forth in a large grove, quite dark even at midday. No one ever goes there, and the traces of the last rains were still visible. I invented stories with Cassagnac as I walked, there all alone — it was convenient and calm. But for that to come about... so many delicate acts of atonement on his part would be required... And all the more so since nothing has actually happened. Ah! An open rupture is easier to mend — but here it is very difficult. And I dream of marriage, honours, glory, and in the end the love of that man — and beyond that, nothing. That is to say I never dream of deceiving my husband — I first arrange widowhood for myself... And this Cassagnac to whom I lend every refinement, every greatness... and all that glory I must acquire in order not to be humiliated in returning to him... When I came here five years ago, going out or looking from the window of an evening into this great garden, I used to think how pleasant it would be if he were there. How could I ever have made room for Larderei... But it was nothing — his alleged thirty thousand francs a year, the desire to be married and his resistance — love? Never, never, never. Besides — is this love? Do I love this man? We shall see; in the meantime I take note of my impressions.